Evolution of a Heart
by Darling Drusilla
Summary: A series of poems and drabbles reflecting the life and death of Tatsuki's love for Ichigo.
1. Chapter 1

They left me in the realm of the living and at first it bother me. But eventually I was glad. I didn't mind obeying the laws of physics. I didn't mind gravity and inertia and speed and things I knew existed. In my life, I was Physics.

He was Philosophy.

Together we used to be Chemistry.

He left for the world of Art and Dance, the world of Literature and Phys Ed.

But sometimes Literature sucks and it's Fucked up and deserves to be burned.

That wasn't a very nice thing to say.

But one Class doesn't make a school day, so Physics is allowed to give a fist enough energy and speed to let gravity take Philosophy down.

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More to come!


	2. Chapter 2

When he came around, the world was just a bit more colorful, a bit brighter. My eyes would always get drawn to him by that mop of bright orange hair and that ever present scowl. I know those characteristics are the exact same thing every other girl recognizes first about him, and I know that I could probably make my speech all flowery and come up with a bunch o silly metaphors, but I'm not going to. I've always been straightforward because that is who I am and frankly, my poetry sucks.

My poetry doesn't revolve around sunshine and rainbows like Orihime's and it doesn't flow nicely and paint a picture of serenity like Rukia's. It's not about happiness and honor, it's about the world and how much the rock lacks those elements. It's dark and dismal and my teacher doesn't even read my work anymore, she just writes a C on the paper and hands it back.

She told me once that she didn't get it, she didn't understand why I was angry and why I didn't write about boys or the joy of karate and judo. Why didn't I reveal my inner darkness and depression? Why did I write about the anger of love? About the hopelessness of love and the way it was just a huge waste of time, a waste of my time. And how Kami knew I had so much time I wanted to waste on it.

Shame too, that she stopped checking my work. Some of it was high quality work, some of my best work. But on the other hand, I may have been committed for some of my plans and the ideas so brilliantly illustrated in my work. Some of it was about me and my former sex friend and our latest angry escapade together resulting from our mutual frustration towards the people we loved who couldn't see that their most loyal followers had always been right there, following them.

But this poem isn't about the two of us, it was about me and the way I couldn't let go and how I needed him in my life. It's about how he ruined holidays for me because I knew he wasn't going to spend them with me anymore. How I hated Halloween because it was about ghosts -of the past nd present- and I would see him running around with his new friends, defying Physics, no, rejecting Physics.

We used to run around together all the time, me riding the handlebars of his bike when mine was broken down or just because I could. We used to practice together down at the dojo and we used to watch cheesy slasher movies together and I loved it. But now riding my bike just makes me sad, the dojo makes me angry and I can't even glance at a slasher movie without crying anymore.

Yes, I cry, not often but I do it. I have a sensitive side and if you think I don't well maybe you're the insensitive bastard. Why do I have to wear a dress to be feminine? Why do I have to cry all te time to have feelings? The answer is that I don't and everyone keeps trying to force me into one of two moulds. I'm either a lesbian or I'm hiding everything under a tough exterior.

The truth is that I get very emotional, I cry way too often and I throw things and I cackle madly if something is funny enough. He knew that because he visited my home and saw me in my natural element. He knew I liked to read books just as much as I want to be a stunt double, he knew that my mother taught me to play the violin and that my dad was always working.

HE knew that and no one else did. No one wanted to know more or care or understand me. I'd mention my birthday and they'd ask if I was going out to a restaurant and none of them could ever stay for a sleepover. And once puberty hit, Ichigo wasn't allowed to stay for a sleepover. Not even Orihime had stayed over before and that hurt. But I didn't want to tell you all about this, I wanted to talk about Love and eternity. I wanted to talk about situations like my parents marriage who met when thy were teenagers on vacation and have been together ever since. Or my grandparents who eloped out of an arranged marriage only to find out they would have married each other anyways. Then there's my other grandparents, who hadn't loved each other in the beginning, instead my grandfather got my grandmother pregnant and only after their kids move out did they start to fall for each other.

I can't look at my family and expect to find the definition of love because there's nothing clear. And I kno that I have my own definition of love is nothing like theirs. But I know that just like them I need it and I feel incomplete without it and that I hate myself for needing it.


	3. Chapter 3

You wanted to leave for good this time around and I felt my soul torn in two. My heart shattered and if I seemed accepting to everything you said it was only because the shock hadn't worn off. It's because my tears and screams were too busy fighting to see who could get out first leaving only laughter to fill it's place.

It was like being trapped in some terrible shojo manga where I would always hold out for you only to be saved by someone else. And as likely as that may have been I am still caught up in the sadness and sorrow of you deciding to leave me behind. Of my only true friend and my soul mate deciding to sever the link. Who the hell decides not to be with their soul mate?

Even after you left, I couldn't help but dodge those places I loved but you hated. Like going down to the waterfront and getting in fights with thugs. Or going to the Sarayashiki border and beating the shit out of those dumb girls and their idiot boyfriends. Those same idiot guys who are too much like you and thus the victims of my spite and anger.

Your father and friends convince you to stay and it's like salt rubbed in the wound of a Masochist. Painful and glorious all at once.


	4. Chapter 4

It's a year later and I've moved away. I'm not sure If I've moved on. I still think of you sometimes, but I don't feel that pain I've come to associate you with. I don't feel my eyes burning with tears I swore never to shed over you. I don't blush when I think of you at night -not as much- and I don't turn the station when your favorite song comes on. I have new friends, a new life...

I wish you were in it.

But I'm glad you're not. I told you when I left that I was tired of being hurt, tired of being a decoration in the background. I was tired of your scowling face and praying for one of your rare golden smiles. Tired of waiting for your throaty laughter that I loved so much.

Now, now that it's just Me and not Us, I'm smiling. I'm the one who laughs and I don't -always- think of you because I'm busy thinking of other things. I'm busy going after my degree in literature and I'm busy enjoying my life in the big city. I'm busy Living.

I think of you late at night. Now and then. Sometimes I think of you during a romance or during a really good action movie.

I love someone new, someone brilliant and happy and focused on life rather than death. I love myself. Finally. So I thank you for that. I thank you making me stronger and more aware of the beauty around me; you always seemed t block it out with your flames. Bright orange and brilliant, they blocked out my own violet light. I hope you find someone. I hope you're happy.

I will always love you. But I'm no longer In Love with you.

* * *

Author's Note: There seems to be some confusion concerning the 'sex friend' reference. Tatsuki was NOT sleeping with Ichigo, she was sleeping with Bunshichi because neither could have their respective loves. And yes, I do mean Bunshichi from Tenjho Tenge.


End file.
